Minutes passed.
I heard the office door opened. I went back in just as James came downstairs. Agent Walker gave me a nod, and left the bakery with his partner.
Hopefully, they would drive to the station right after this.
He looked okay. Pale, yeah, but his hands weren’t shaking. He gave me a small smile when he saw me, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but tried.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I answered, crossing to him in two strides.
“Sorry,” he added quietly, “for running. I thought it would help.”
I exhaled sharply. “Next time, talk to me. Or scream at me. Or write it down in angry frosting on a cupcake. Just don’t disappear.”
James looked up at me, and there it was again. That bone-deep weariness. The look of someone who’d finally laid down a burden he never should’ve carried alone.
“I think it’s really over now,” he said.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “I think it is.”
He leaned into me then, just a little, like he wasn’t sure he deserved to but couldn’t help himself. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple.
“They’ll process Avery and his crew soon,” he said after a moment. “Callum’s making sure the sheriff keeps the human paperwork clean for the Paranormal Police.”
“Good.”
James was quiet, then: “Did I do the right thing? Selling the ring?”
I looked down at him, then at the ring. His mother’s. The one he’d held onto all this time. The only heirloom she left him.
I didn’t lie. “I hated it. But yeah, you did.”
He nodded, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “I just wanted it to be over.”
“It is,” I promised. “You’re safe now.”
But as I held him, I knew it wasn’t just about being safe.
It was about learning to let someone else carry the weight, too.
And this time, I wouldn’t let him carry it alone.
* * *
It had been a long week, for once, the kind of long that didn’t end with blood or bruises.
Just sore feet, bakery rushes, and paperwork from the Paranormal Police that still gave me a headache.
Still, when I clocked out at Bear and Bun and found myself walking the familiar path toward Wolf & Whisk, I didn’t question it.
I needed to see my wolf. The late afternoon sun spilled gold across the sidewalk, baking the scent of sugar and cinnamon into the warm air. It was comforting, familiar.
My ribs didn’t ache anymore. The bruises had faded. But the memory of James’ tear-streaked face the night I nearly bled out still lingered. Not as a wound now. Just a reminder.
When Wolf & Whisk came into view, the storefront window glowed warm and welcoming.
The hand-painted sign James had redone last month swung gently in the breeze, and laughter drifted from the open door.
